


SNAFjU

by pippen2112



Series: Back on Our Bullshit - A Critical Role Modern AU [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Plug, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Consensual Kink, Dirty Pictures, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Off-screen kink negotiations, Orgasm Denial, POV Fjord (Critical Role), Pictures, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Situational Humiliation, Sub Fjord (Critical Role), Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Jolly Green: Hey, um, I may have fucked up. Just a lil bit.Magic Hands: Is everything alright? Are you hurt?Jolly Green: I'm fine, honest. But, um, y’all may wanna pick up something for dinner on the way home. This slow cooker recipe… didn’t work…Magic Hands: Barchen, I'm sure it's fine. You know Molly and I are not picky.Jolly Green: It's less a "this tastes bad" didn’t work and more a "this is inedible" didn't work.Total Package: just to clarify is the a fuck up or a fjuck upTotal Package: theres a big differenceJolly Green: -.-





	SNAFjU

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back, and the fjollygast modern AU finally has a name! This series and it's continued existence wouldn't be here without the continued support from the lovely folks on the CritGoals Discord. 
> 
> This installment is brought to you by the prompts "taking pictures," "sex toys," "orgasm denial," and the broad concept that Fjord's low wisdom leads him to make dumb mistakes like microwaving things without removing the aluminium foil. 
> 
> This fic reads as a stand alone, but reading the others in the series will help you understand the relationship at play here. In the series, I'd guess it roughly takes place after the events of "Challenge Accepted" but before the events of "Pie".
> 
> Even though it is not shown, the boys have previously negotiated the parameters of Fjord's fjuck up punishments. I tagged this as best I could, but if I missed anything, please let me know!

Jolly Green: Hey, um, I may have fucked up. Just a lil bit.

Magic Hands: Is everything alright? Are you hurt?

Jolly Green: I'm fine, honest. But, um, y’all may wanna pick up something for dinner on the way home. This slow cooker recipe… didn’t work…

Magic Hands: Barchen, I'm sure it's fine. You know Molly and I are not picky.

Jolly Green: It's less a "this tastes bad" didn’t work and more a "this is inedible" didn't work.

Total Package: just to clarify is the a fuck up or a fjuck up

Total Package: theres a big difference

Jolly Green: -.-

Jolly Green: Ya know, it’s mean to make fun of your boyfriend's perfectly understandable, insignificant little mistakes.

Jolly Green: I went to all this trouble of making sure you would have a meal ready when you got home. Got everything together. Set it to cook. Everything.

Magic Hands: You forgot to plug the crock pot in again, didn’t you?

Jolly Green: ......that might be part of it, yeah…

Total Package: yes love, *that* we consider a fjuck up.

 

Jolly Green: fjuck

Magic Hands: Yyou take this one, 

Total Package: bless you dear one. i shall make grand use of this treasure.

Magic Hands: No snaps. You can show off your handy work when I get home.

Total Package: [an explosion of rainbow heart emojis]

Total Package: lets see, i want to see you in the lace-up sports bra, the penny for your thots tee, and your *favorite* pair of booty shorts.

Jolly Green: :/

Jolly Green: I feel like I should get a say in this.

Magic Hands: well, as our friend Beauregard says in times like these, "Tough Tiddies."

 

Magic Hands: How else will you learn, liebling?

Jolly Green: fine, I'll get ready. 

Total Package: #blessed

Jolly Green: kill me now

#

It began with the shorts. Before Caleb and Molly finally pounded it through his thick head that he wasn’t a third wheel brought in to spice up their relationship. Before he and Molly started rooming together. Before he took that Intro to Magical Theory course freshman year and struggled to actually pay attention and not just make googly eyes at the scruffy Zemnian TA.

Years back, before he’d even left the Menagerie Coast, Jester, his internet friend down in Nicodranas, sent him a care package to encourage his efforts to kick the last of his lingering chub. Among the sweatbands and water bottles and protein powder, he’d found a pair of booty shorts. A neon pink pair of booty shorts. A neon pink pair of booty shorts with the phrase “Steamy” in bold letters written across the seat. At the time, Fjord had flushed ten shades of red and thrown the shorts into the back of his foot locker to be dealt with later. Much later. And in fact, after he’d made it through his first year at university, been introduced to one of Jester’s rowdy yet well meaning friends who needed someone to split the rent with, and finally gotten all his things out of storage, he’d found them again.

If Molly hadn’t been standing in the doorway at the time, the goddamn shorts would’ve gone straight into the trash. But Molly’s eyebrows had arched toward his hairline as he looked from Fjord to the offending pair of shorts and smirked. “Huh, never would’ve guessed neon was your color.”

Before Fjord could sputter out an explanation, Molly had laughed. “Don’t worry, Fjord. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Not everyone can pull off the wanton slut look.”

So obviously, Fjord had puffed his chest out and sassed back he could pull them off just fine and then worn the goddamn shorts when he went out jogging the next morning even though Molly wasn’t awake to witness them.

Now, tucked in the safety of his room, Fjord chuckles under his breath, recalling how Beau shrieked and spit out her coffee and sprinted hard to keep in front of him. He looks down at the outfit Molly picked out for him, at the stupid “Steamy” shorts at the top of the pile, and sighs. Something squirms in his gut, a mix of anxiety and insecurity and arousal all battling for dominance. He doesn’t know what to make of it, what side he wants to win out, just hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut and breathes hard.

It began with the shorts, and to this day, Fjord idly wonders if he would’ve been better off if he’d just trashed the shorts all those years ago when he first beheld them. As soon as the though crosses his mind, he shakes it away. No matter his discomfort with _this_ , he’s happier than he ever dreamed he could be, has partners who love and respect and cherish him—who push him to test his limit, who listen when he falls short of his own expectations—and he wouldn’t risk losing that, not for a stupid scrap of spandex.

Exhaling long and slow, Fjord shucks off his sweatpants and boxers and wiggles the shorts up over his hips. Ignores his half-hard cock already straining against the fabric. Gets himself ready as quickly and mechanically as possible. Molly’ll be home soon, and the sooner they get this punishment over, the sooner he gets to dump this whole get-up in the dirty laundry and forget about it and the strange wriggling sensation it inspires in him.

#

"Honey, I'm home," Molly sing-songs as he bursts into the apartment, sounding eerily chipper, especially after an opening shift when Mollymauk Tealeaf would sooner walk on broken glass than wake up before noon. _Then again_ , Fjord thinks as he looks down at his get-up and swallows hard, _he's had something to look forward to when he got him._

Before Fjord has another moment to ready himself, Molly steps into the bedroom door and leans back in the doorway, graceful and leering and Fjord can’t help wanting to fall into his space and leave marks over every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Any day of the week, Molly is nothing short of intriguing, but when he’s in his element and enjoying himself, he’s magnetic.

Those bright red eyes trail over him, soaking in every detail. The white tee-shirt that clings to his shoulders and chest, thin enough to show the extremely unnecessary sports bra beneath. These goddamn bright shorts that are tight around his thighs and riding up his ass. Fjord does his best to stand up straight and keep his chin held high, but a strange sensation burns in his gut, at once humiliating and arousing, especially when Molly digs his phone out of his pocket and starts taking pictures. “My, look at you, big boy,” he says casually, watching him through the viewfinder and making no move to meet Fjord’s eye. “Don’t you clean up nice.”

Blushing hard, Fjord averts his gaze and fists his hands at his sides so he doesn’t reach down at cover his groin. He’s comfortable in his skin now that he’s come to terms with those parts of him that want to go belly up and beg, but being on display like this, in these clothes, in this situation, well, there’s a reason it’s become a punishment for his absent minded slip-ups. If Molly didn’t take quite so much unabashed glee in it, it wouldn’t be half as effective.

“Hop on the bed and get on your knees for me, love,” Molly says almost absentmindedly as he starts moving around the room, angling the lamps and drawing the curtains as he pleases.

Dropping his head forward, Fjord climbs onto the bed and kneels. The tension in his chest eases as he does. This, he knows. Following orders. Letting go. He nods to himself and looks up to find Molly watching him over the edge of his phone. Before Molly can ask, Fjord mutters, “I’m green, darlin’. Just a little antsy still.”

Expression softening, Molly crosses to the foot of the bed and cups Fjord’s cheek, and well, Fjord would be lying if he said he didn’t breathe a little easier for it. “Take your time, Fjord,” Molly says, stroking his thumb along Fjord’s lower lip. “We’re in no rush.”

His heart throbs with relief. Fjord nuzzles into Molly’s touch, breathing in the scent of him, letting the warmth ground him. Slowly, his shoulders droop, and his eyelids turn heavy, and a comforting haze settles over him. He nods slowly, slurring slightly. “‘M ready, Molls.”

“Good boy.” Molly pats his cheeks, grinning as he backs across the room and takes up his phone again. “Alright, lets see. Knees spread. Hands on your heels. Arch your back.”

Fjord does as he’s told, falling into position and moving as he’s bidden. He’s distantly aware of his cock swelling in these tight little shorts, of his nipples pebbling beneath the unnecessary bra, of his skin tingling at the slightest touch. He lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling. If he’s focused on the popcorn texture, he doesn’t have to face what he looks like now.

“Lovely. Now, ruck up that shirt and gives your cock a nice squeeze for me.”

He moves without thinking, fingers rasping over his abs as they drift down and wrap around his bulge. His hips lurch forward into the pressure.

“Gods, that’s perfect.”

For the better part of an hour, Molly have Fjord pose all through the apartment, slowly teasing more and more skin, stripping off his shirt while he’s splayed across the couch, kneeling on the floor as he slowly unlaces the sports bra. Fjord nearly calls his safe word when Molly pulls him out onto the balcony and has him props his elbows on the railing.

For a nerve-wracking five minutes, he cranes up on his tiptoes and flexes his back muscles as he peels off the sports bra, pointedly ignoring the growing dark spot on his shorts. Gods, he’s still at least partly decent—all the important bits are still covered—but somehow, he feels far more exposed by these booty shorts than his naked skin ever does. But before his resolve shatters around him, Molly takes mercy on him and pulls him back to the bedroom, and Fjord can breathe again.

Hands curl possessively around Fjord’s hips as Molly pushes him toward the bed, kissing his neck and nibbling at his ear. “Gods, it should be illegal to look as good as you do.”

Cheeks burning, he ducks his head. “I think that’s definitely more your area of expertise, Molls.”

“No, no. Trust me on this,” Molly says while grinding against Fjord. “I have exquisite taste.” For emphasis, he swats Fjord’s ass.

Fjord clenches instinctively, nearly doubling over at the full sensation. Chuckling, Molly cups his ass and whispers, “You added that last piece we talked about?”

Voice too thin for words, Fjord nods.

Molly hums and runs a hand down Fjord’s spine, the points of his claws leaving Fjord gasping. “One last pose, and we’ll call your punishment satisfied. Up on the bed now, hands and knees.”

Without a word, Fjord clambers onto the mattress and into position. It’s nearly over. He’s done this enough time before now he knows what to expect, and arousal pools low in his gut, anxious and ready.

After a moment of silence, Molly strokes up Fjord’s sides and curls one hand around the nape of his neck, applying gentle pressure until his chest drops to the bed. He pants into the bedding, hands curled tight in the fabric to tether himself to the present.

“Good boy,” Molly coos. “So very good for us, even while taking your punishment. You just want to do what we tell you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he gasps out, shivering in the wake of the praise. “Yes, please.”

“Why don’t you pull these shorts down for me? I want to see you.”

His face burns, but no one can see his ugly flush, his pleasure-pinched expression. Even with the camera on him, Molly’s left him this mask, and he’s unspeakably grateful for it. Exhaling slowly, Fjord reaches back and begins to yank down the shorts. A firm hand on his wrist stops him from shoving them all the way to his knees. “Easy. That’s far enough.”

He nods into the bedding and drops his hands. Behind him, Molly fusses with the stretchy fabric until it lays just so before snapping more pictures. Fjord nearly jumps out of his skin when Molly reaches between his legs and eases his cock and balls back until they’re on full display. Until all of him is on display. But Molly’s kind enough not to comment on the soaked through crotch of his shorts or the steady trickle of pre-come dripping from his dick. He doesn’t think he could handle that kind of shame. Not right now.

“Oh look,” Molly says coyly, fingers ghosting along the swell of Fjord’s ass, inching closer and closer to his hole. Fjord twitches at that voice, the one he knows so well from all of Molly’s dirty films, and arousal pulses through him. “I think there’s a little surprise back here. Be a good boy for me, and hold yourself open so I can get a better look.”

Fjord bites his tongue to stop himself from reacting, but a low, wanting note still resonates in his chest. Gods, it’s moments like this that he loves and hates his partners. Still, he reaches back, palms the globes of his ass, and spreads his cheeks. He can’t begin to imagine what he must look like right now: face-down, ass-up, a pair of raunchy shorts pull part-way down his thighs, a red-jeweled base of an anal plug nestled against his hole. Fjord shivers despite the heat brewing beneath his skin. Okay, maybe he has some idea of what he looks like, but fuck if he knows how to make sense of it. How to reconcile this part of him with the focused, professional attitude he works hard to maintain in the face of the wide world. It’s the sort of thing he can only face like this, in bits and pieces with someone he trusts holding his leash, ready to yank him back if it’s too much for him.

“Oh, I bet Caleb will love this little touch,” Molly says, his touch disappearing for a moment before the plug moves. Twisting. Tugging. Spreading Fjord so wide he moans as Molly toys with it. Toys with him. “Did you think about his fingers while you prepared yourself? I bet you did. Squeezed your eyes shut and grit your teeth and pretended it was someone else playing with your slutty little hole. Someone else plugging you up so you’d be ready for them later. Not you. Not our good, sweet boy behaving like a whore because it gets his dick wet.”

As he speaks, Molly punctuates his words by playing with the plug, easing it halfway out before letting Fjord’s ass suck it back in instinctively. Fucks into him with this small piece of steel that’s so much less than what he wants but still more than he deserves. Every few thrusts, Molly will press the plug in deep with one hand and palm his balls with the other; every time, Fjord gasps and thinks it will be enough to shove him over the edge, but Molly plays him like a fiddle. Makes him moan and sigh and keen with practiced ease.

When Fjord starts grinding his hips back in earnest, Molly gives him an extra firm squeeze. Fjord buckles onto the mattress, the breath punched out of him by the simple burst of discomfort. His claws dig into his cheeks, struggling to maintain the position. Chuckling lightly, Molly shifts behind him and swats his ass. Fjord clenches hard on the plug, gasping.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Molly says, smirk audible in every word. “Do you want to put the shorts back on so Caleb can enjoy you in all your filthy glory when he gets home?”

His cock pulses in spite of the uncomfortable thought of spending another hour or more in stick, cold booty shorts. He shudders at the prospect, and shakes his head. “Not today.” He swallows hard trying to clear the gravelly sound from his voice. “Could…” He trails off.

Molly strokes up his flank, gently pries Fjord’s hands off his ass and sets them on the bed beneath them. He kisses along the small of Fjord’s back. “I can’t tell you yay or nay if you don’t ask, love.”

Exhaling heavily, Fjord clings to the covers and squeezes his eyes closed. He’s safe here, he reminds himself, and for all that Molly revels in his discomfort, the tiefling isn’t actually a sadist. Molly’s not gonna deny him what he needs, even in a punishment scene. “I… I know the denial is part of the deal here, but…” His dick twitches much to his chagrin. “But can we snuggle a bit first? See if it goes down on its own?”

Humming contentedly, Molly presses one last kiss to his skin. “I think I can work that into my evening schedule.” As he pulls the shorts down and helps Fjord roll onto his side and straighten his knees, he asks, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Fjord blushes into his pillow. “Little spoon.”

Without another word, Molly drops onto the bed behind Fjord, splays himself against Fjord’s back and hooks a leg over his hip, the fabric rasping against his still-sensitive skin. Only in the aftermath does he realize Molly never stopped to take off his own clothes. Never sought his own release. On other nights he might roll over and offer his hand or mouth, but now, he huddles back into Molly’s warmth and sigh.

After a few minutes of quiet, Molly lays a hand over Fjord’s stomach and kneads with his fingertips. Between pressing kisses along the line of his shoulders, Molly whispers, “You did so well.”

His face burns at the compliment. He pushes forward into Molly’s touch. “Thanks for… y’know.”

Molly _tsk_ s. “I do know, but the lesson won’t sink in if you don’t say it.”

A fresh swell of arousal sweeps through him, more pre-come welling on his dick. Fjord drops his head forward. “Thank you for showing me what happens when I act like a dumbass.”

Molly kisses the sensitive spot beneath his ear in reward. “Thank you for trusting me not to overstep your limits.” A moment later, he adds, “And for letting me dress you up like a fuckboi.”

Shivering and laughing, he falls back into Molly’s arms and does his best to think unsexy thoughts. Half-remembered arcane theorems. Grocery lists. Jerking awake from sweat-inducing, already forgotten nightmares. But his stupid goddamn dick doesn’t take the hint, stands tall and proud between his thighs, biting its time until the next round. Fjord sighs heavily. “Yeah, it’s not going down. You’re gonna have to…” He sucks in a sharp breath, shuddering. “Gonna have to get the ice.”

“Oh don’t say that like it doesn’t give you a little thrill deep down inside,” Molly comments as he hops off the bed and sashays out to the kitchen.

Sitting up properly, his cock jolts to the ready, and Fjord’s sorely tempted to give himself a quick squeeze. Just to take the edge off. But that’s against the rules. Until Molly and Caleb are satisfied with his atonement, he doesn’t get to touch himself. Thus far it’s only ever been a few hours at a time, but Molly’s right—the show of dominance does turn something inside him loose and greedy and eager to please. But he’s not dealing with that now. That’s another problem for future Fjord to deal with.

Molly wanders back in bearing a dish towel filled with ice and a wicked grin. “Ready, love?”

Exhaling slowly, Fjord spreads his legs and stares up at the ceiling. Nods mechanically and braces for the discomfort. As Molly presses the cold bundle up against his sensitive bits, Fjord bites back a curse and reminds himself it’s less than two hours now until Caleb gets home and he gets a shot at redeeming himself. Less than two hours till Molly shows off today’s photo shoot. He squirms and bites back a whimper and takes it. Feels the physical effects subside even though arousal still twitches under his skin. Falls back against the headboard and reminds himself to breathe.

It’s gonna be a long evening before he gets any kind of satisfaction. _Best settle in._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Questions, comments, and concrit welcome!


End file.
